


time for the inhuman race

by wrishwrosh



Series: [bat emoji] [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21866659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrishwrosh/pseuds/wrishwrosh
Summary: Josty matches with a vamp on Tinder, and it's all downhill from there. Vignettes in the life of Nate Dogg, accidental vampire interviewer.
Relationships: Erik Johnson/Nathan MacKinnon
Series: [bat emoji] [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665310
Comments: 43
Kudos: 315





	time for the inhuman race

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you gotta write something that is just so stupid. my only planning notes for this one were: dumb immortality jokes ONLY. NO vampire worldbuilding and NO deep questions about the nature of eternity. pls enjoy.
> 
> title from you’re dead by norma tanega (on the what we do in the shadows soundtrack, which provided spiritual comedy vampire inspiration)

“Hey, Dogg, what’s it like to date a vampire?” Josty asks one afternoon after practice.

“Uh, why?” Nate asks, mostly distracted by balling up his tape. “I mean, I never have, so.”

Josty tosses Nate his phone, overhand like an asshole, and Nate idly considers not catching it to teach him a lesson about accountability or taking care of your possessions or some shit. He snatches it out of the air anyway. If he drops it Josty will definitely go out with some kind of finger injury from typing on a cracked screen, because that’s the kind of luck they’re having this season. 

“Look at this chick I matched with on Tinder,” Josty says.

Nate swipes through the pictures on Josty’s screen. It’s Anna, 22, a pale redhead with regular girl-on-Tinder pictures. Her with a dog, her in a bathing suit, a bunch of pictures in bars to prove she has friends. At the bottom of her bio, however, is a bat emoji. A vamp, then, which explains about half of Josty’s question.

“What the fuck do you mean you never dated a vampire?” Josty asks. “What about that girl last season?” 

“She wasn’t a vampire, she just had fucked up teeth,” says EJ, piping up from the darkest corner of the room, “and I am a vampire and I have fucked up teeth so I’m allowed to say it.”

Nate shrugs and tosses Josty’s phone back. “I dunno, she seems fine. Why don’t you ask EJ about dating vampires? Or JT?”

“Leave me the fuck out of this,” JT says immediately.

Josty looks over at EJ. EJ waggles his eyebrows and bites his lip, showing off the gap between his fangs. “EJ doesn’t count.”

“Oh, I don’t?”

Josty visibly feels around for a response. Nate can practically hear the wheels turning under his hair. “Uh, you’re too old?”

“You don’t know how old this girl is,” EJ says. “She could be a thousand. She could be a fucking ancient Roman for all you know.”

“Her profile says she’s 22?” Josty says, wavering.

“That only means she _looks _22.” EJ says sagely. Behind him, JT rolls his eyes. Nate has no idea how old JT actually is, just that he died at 24. It’s actually kind of embarrassing how little Nate knows about vampires, given that he has two on his team. Both JT and EJ are kind of secretive, but Nate’s pretty sure that’s mostly rooted in a mutual desire to be fake-mysterious assholes.

“Gravy, what’s your take, huh?” Barbs asks.

“You guys know I’m not a vampire,” Gravy says. “I feel like that might be a harmful stereotype?”

“Yeah,” says EJ, peeling off his base layers, which are unfairly dry because vampires don’t sweat so much as get sort of clammy. “Not all of us are all dark-haired and sultry looking. Some of us are regular ugly. Or blond.”

JT tosses a ball of tape at EJ’s head, and EJ swats it down. “What?” EJ asks. “I specifically said regular ugly. I’m being inclusive.”

“Aw, JT’s not that ugly,” Josty says.

“Well, he sure isn’t blond,” EJ mutters. Nate wonders if he should break this up, given his leadership position on the team. Then he considers the fact that EJ is also technically supposed to be a leader, and also Nate might learn something interesting about vampires, and he decides to let it rest.

+

Gabe’s using the captive audience provided by team dinner to pass around pictures of his kid again. Nate says aw at Gabe’s phone screen whenever it ends up over his plate, and passes it over to Andre on his right as soon as he can without making Gabe suspicious. Gabe’s baby sure is a baby. Nate can verify that she is very small, and doesn’t have any hair. He’s more of a dog guy.

“What’s that disease babies have that makes them cry a lot? Syphilis?” Andre asks, staring down at a picture of the baby either crying, yawning, or smiling.

“I can say with, like, maybe seventy percent confidence that it’s not syphilis.” Nate says. If he wasn’t trying to save face in front of the boys, he’d say it’s closer to forty. The only thing Nate knows about babies is how to pass them back to their parents without breaking their terrifying little necks on accident. He likes kids better once they can hold their own heads up.

“If your baby’s crying too much, just gotta give ‘em some whiskey. That’s what my mother did for me and I turned out fine,” EJ pipes up from across the table.

“I think fine is relative,” says Gabe, affronted. “Also, you were born in 1832.”

“What, like babies have changed so much?”

“Maybe babies are just sad,” Andre says thoughtfully. Nate pats him on the shoulder. It’s good that he feels at home enough on the team to contribute to the discussion.

“Whiskey on the gums,” EJ says. “They’ll get happier real quick.”

Nate tries to imagine EJ as a baby. A toothless blond kid, wearing britches and suspenders or whatever it was kids wore in the olden days. Bloomers, maybe, Nate doesn’t know. It’s a weird mental image, because EJ has looked exactly the same as long as Nate’s known him. EJ has looked exactly the same since 1863, plus or minus some teeth. And it’s not like there are baby photos, because he was born literally before cameras existed. 

“Johnson, what were you like as a kid?” Nate asks. “Drunk all the time?”

“Everybody was, they didn’t invent non-alcoholic beverages until 1930.” EJ taps his fork on his plate, which is empty, thank god. He generally doesn’t try to eat while the team is out in public, which Nate counts as a small blessing. They try to choose restaurants with a vamp menu so EJ and JT don’t have to just sit there and watch the rest of them chew, and today EJ’s settled in with something listed on the menu as a Literal Bloody Mary.

“What did you do for fun in the 1830s, huh?” Gabe asks, picking up Nate’s thread.

“The usual kid stuff,” EJ says, sipping his drink. “Throwing rocks at birds, farm labor, diphtheria.”

“Oh, the baby loves birds,” Gabe says, reaching for his phone. Nate glares at EJ, who just shrugs.

“Nothing brings kids together like birds,” says EJ.

“I think birds are cool,” says Andre. Nate decides to invest some energy in his plate.

+

“You know, there’s a portrait of me in the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts,” EJ says, apropos of nothing, before stealing a cherry tomato out of Nate’s ancient grains bowl and popping it in his mouth. Nate’s gonna stab him with his compostable silverware. It’s rare enough that True Food Kitchen caters their flights, and now EJ is ruining Nate’s in-flight dining experience.

Nate takes off his headphones. “The fuck?” he says. “Have you ever even been to Virginia? Also, I told you to stop eating in front of me, that shit’s fuckin’ gross.”

EJ chomps down on the tomato, grinning. Nate can see the chewed up tomato pulp through his teeth gaps. “I was in Virginia for like six months in the sixties, and I’m not trying to go back anytime soon. Shitty state.” EJ doesn’t specify which sixties, and Nate doesn’t ask. It’s been a long time since he bothered asking EJ a clarifying question, because even true stories from EJ’s life sound so incredibly fake it’s impossible to tell when you’re being fucked with.

With an obnoxious flourish—because EJ claims he spent two years working as a close-up magician and he wants people to ask about it—EJ produces a paper napkin out of thin air, carefully unfolds it, and then spits his mouthful of tomato into it. Nate retches. 

“C’mon, bro,” Nate groans.

EJ balls up the napkin full of tomato saliva and lobs it into an empty coffee cup sitting abandoned on a tray table across the aisle. “Buckets? Is that what people say these days?” He reaches for Nate’s bowl again and Nate slaps his hand away. “Or is it—Kobe?”

“I fucking hate you. Get your icy hands out of my salad.” Nate whole-heartedly hates watching EJ eat, if what EJ does could be called eating. Drinking isn’t so bad. Nate’s not afraid of blood and EJ mostly drinks the supplemented stuff with a straw out of the same post-workout bottles most of the guys on the team use. But Nate has a perfectly normal issue with mouth noises, and listening to EJ chew up and spit out human food is mouth noise city. 

“You know it’s worse if I don’t spit it out,” EJ says smugly. Nate’s never hung out around enough new vamps to witness what happens when a vampire forgets they can’t eat solids anymore, but he’s heard the phrase ‘legendary puke explosion’ plenty of times. He’s not convinced that watching EJ treat Nate’s entire lunch like a fancy wine tasting is any better. Nate’s newfound interest in understanding vampire culture has limits.

Nate chews and swallows to prove the point that he can. “Why does Virginia have a portrait of you?” he asks, with no food in his mouth because he’s fucking polite.

EJ shrugs. “I don’t know how museum acquisitions work, buddy. It got donated or something.”

“Huh,” says Nate.

“I thought about buying it back. Be a good conversation starter, having a portrait of yourself hanging in the bathroom.”

“Very vampy,” Nate agrees.

“Right? But in the end I think it’s funnier to leave it in some random art museum. Like, imagine someone who knows me happens to be in Richmond and they see a big fucking portrait of me in the American art gallery or whatever.”

“I feel like that has to happen a lot with vampires,” Nate says. “There’s gotta be so many weird old pictures of you kicking around.”

Lightning quick, EJ reaches into Nate’s bowl and snags a forkful of arugula and bulgur. God knows where he was keeping the fork. “Nobody took pictures of me until ten years ago. I don’t know why you think I’m that interesting,” he says.

“Fuck you, leave my lunch alone,” says Nate, and snaps the lid back on his bowl.

“What, you want me to be trapped in a joyless immortality, devoid of the sensual pleasures of food? Is that what you want, Mac?”

“Yes,” says Nate. “I want that.”

EJ squints at the ingredients list on the bowl’s discarded lid. “You want me to never again taste...avocado? Or seven ancient grains?

“Hundred bucks that you didn’t know what either of those was until literally a century after you were dead,” Nate says.

“How old do you think I am?” EJ asks. “It was at least one forty.”

Nate elbows him in the ribs over the armrest. EJ retaliates by putting him in a headlock, knocking the bowl into the no-man’s-land by their feet. EJ’s wrist is cold on Nate’s neck, and a shiver runs down Nate’s spine at the touch. Without thinking about it, he leans a little closer.

“You know, I dabbled in Turkish wrestling,” EJ says, and the obvious bullshit is enough to snap Nate out of whatever weird trance he’s in. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Nate says, shoving out of EJ’s hold. “You did not.”

“Did too,” says EJ, and then the conversation is too stupid for even Nate, and he puts his headphones back on.

+

Denver has a warmish weekend, and EJ gets it into his head to host an un-seasonal post-American Thanksgiving barbeque at his house. Nate shows up a polite half hour late with a six pack of light beer that he will be the only one drinking and beelines to the back patio to check up on the grill. The patio’s ringed in a stupid number of string lights and stand-up heaters because EJ, being not only cold-blooded but also rich and obnoxious, likes to have his own personal outdoor lizard tank. EJ’s between the grill and two heaters, presiding over a lineup of chicken kebabs in an apron with a shirtless bodybuilder on it. 

“Have you started the steaks yet?” Nate shouts, shoving all but one of his beers in an open cooler. EJ just snaps his tongs in Nate’s direction, which is absolutely not a good enough answer. He dashes over to the grill, cutting through a very close conversation between JT and Josty and shoving a chair aside to get the most efficient route. The steaks, thankfully, are still raw, set out on a tray next to the grill.

“I know you’ll never shut the fuck up if you don’t get your perfect medium rare,” EJ says, clicking the tongs for emphasis. “Get after it.” Nate obliges, shoving the chicken kebabs aside so he can arrange the steaks for preferential heat distribution. EJ rolls his eyes, but Nate can guarantee he’ll enjoy chewing this steak.

They both stand there by the grill, Nate with his cheap beer and EJ with his wine glass full of spiked blood, watching the steaks cook. Most of Nate’s attention is on the steaks, because the margin of error between medium rare and medium is so narrow, but he’s also paying a little bit of attention to EJ. Only because EJ is in his space. It’s always weird to see EJ when he’s really focusing on something, because he stands so still. EJ doesn’t usually breathe, which Nate is pretty used to at this point, but you don’t realize how much people shift their weight and twitch their muscles until you stand next to a vamp.

It’s a little freaky. Nate doesn’t know if he’s always had this kind of awareness of EJ and what he’s doing and how he’s standing, but he’s aware as hell now. “Do vampires go bald?” he asks, just to make conversation and also so EJ will pay attention to him, and then steals the tongs out of EJ’s hand to flip the steaks. He wants fucking _grill marks_.

“What?”

In retrospect, that’s probably a weird question. But now that it’s out there, Nate does actually want to know. He’s trying to learn more about vampires, as a responsible teammate and citizen. “You heard me.”

EJ gives him a look. “No? I mean, I haven’t. I assume it would’ve happened before I turned a hundred and eighty if it was gonna happen at all.” The steaks are sizzling, but Nate resists the urge to mess with them. Grill marks. “Gotta say, that’s one of the stranger questions I’ve gotten recently,” EJ says.

“Fair enough,” Nate allows. “What’s stranger than that?”

“People are always really weird about American vampires,” EJ says. “Like, they come up to me and ask, oh, how do you say _blood_ in _Romanian_? Pal, I was born in Minnesota.”

“Wait, what,” says Nate. On the official roster it says EJ is from Bloomington, but Nate always kind of thought that was a running joke with the front office. He doesn’t know where he thought EJ was actually from.

“Well, it wasn’t technically Minnesota yet. I think it was still part of Iowa Territory at that point?” EJ takes a contemplative sip out of his wine glass, teeth clicking on the plastic. Nate’s not a wine guy or a blood guy, but he’s pretty sure you’re not supposed to put ice cubes in anything red. It’s EJ’s house, EJ’s rules, he guesses.

“It’s sânge, by the way,” EJ says. “You wanna watch the steaks while I get a refill?”

“What’s sinjay?”

“Blood in Romanian. I can say it in—” EJ pauses to count on his fingers “—seven or eight languages.”

“Why?” Nate asks.

“Why not?” EJ responds.

“Fair enough,” says Nate, and turns his attention to the steaks.

Later, after EJ has fetched both a refill and a meat thermometer so Nate can take the steaks off the grill at the ideal internal temp, they settle with their plates around the firepit with Josty and Barbs. EJ snags a chair between the fire and a patio heater so he can bask. Nate is about to sweat through his shirt just looking at him, but to each their own or whatever.

“I was supposed to hang out with Anna last night, but she flaked,” Josty whines.

“Who’s Anna?” Nate asks, testing the crust on his steak. It came out pretty good, if he says so himself.

“That girl whose Tinder I showed you like, a week and a half ago?” 

“Sure, that Anna. I remember her,” says Nate, who doesn’t. It’s not that Nate doesn’t want to be a good friend and alternate. But he really, truly does not have the space in his brain for his teammates’ hookups’ names. He’s not an asshole, he’ll do wives and committed long-term girlfriends, but Nate draws the line at Tinder dates. He needs those neurons for other more important things, like plays, and how to cook chicken breast without accidentally turning it into jerky. He’s more comfortable with red meat.

“You totally don’t know who I’m talking about, but that’s chill,” says Josty, scrolling through a message thread on his phone. “Here’s what she said, she said, ‘so sorry but I have to cancel tonight, I got a little too lit yesterday and ate some peanut butter cups and I’m still recovering lol.’ Do we think that’s, like, an excuse, or what? She didn’t say she was allergic to peanuts.”

“She’s gonna ghost you, bro,” says Barbs. “Wild setup, though.”

“Maybe she’s keto or something,” Nate offers.

“This is the vampire?” EJ asks, and Josty nods. “Nah, she’s not keto. She just got drunk enough to forget she was a vampire and made a stupid choice with some Reeses.”

Josty blinks. “Legendary puke explosion,” says EJ.

“Ohh,” says Josty, realization dawning. “Legendary puke explosion.”

“Yeah,” EJ says, grave. “It can take a while to remember not to swallow.”

“Heh,” says Josty. “Swallowing.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely can’t swallow come either. That’s a mistake you only make once, sport.”

Josty sputters. Nursing a glass of blood in a nearby lawn chair, JT freezes. Nate has a suspicion his eye is starting to twitch. 

“Anyway, she might still be ghosting you. Eating solids is a great way to get out of a week’s worth of engagements.”

“I feel like there’s gotta be a better way to ditch people without puking up your lungs,” Josty says.

EJ looks him up and down skeptically. “Sometimes it’s worth it.”

+

The next day, Josty shows up at morning skate wearing a scarf over his hoodie. As the proud owner of maybe three suits, Josty’s not known for his daring clothing choices. Nate only recently started experimenting with actual tailoring and therefore wouldn’t consider himself a fashion expert, but he doesn’t recognize Josty’s ensemble as any kind of style. He does, however, recognize it as a bad morning waiting to happen. A bad morning for Josty, that is, because the rest of the team’s day is about to get significantly better.

Sure enough, Josty cautiously looks around before unwinding the scarf to reveal a truly outrageous hickey. It takes about a third of a second for everyone in the locker room to notice, because half of Josty’s neck is red turning purple.

Calvy double-takes as he walks past Josty’s stall. “Jesus, what happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Josty says, clapping a hand to his neck.

“Ah, youth,” EJ sighs.

Nate squints at him. “What does that mean?”

He grins. “Somebody just hooked up with a baby vampire.”

Nate studies the marks on Josty’s neck. The bruises do seem to focus at two reddish, scabby spots just to the left of his throat, about fang distance apart. No matter how Josty contorts his shoulders, the bruise is visible from basically every angle. Nate snorts.

“It’s kinda cute, really,” EJ says. “I remember those days.”

“What, do you not bite people?” Nate asks. He wonders what it feels like to be bitten. He wonders what it would feel like to be bitten by EJ, specifically. Gummy probably, because everything EJ does is gummy. But the idea lingers.

“Not if I can help it, and especially not in a sex context. Biting is so messy, so much work. It’s really not hot at all. Unless it’s your, uh, what’s the word these days, fetish?”

Nate sputters. The vague image he has in his head of EJ’s mouth on his neck vanishes before he even needs to repress it, which is helpful, but EJ’s only gaining steam. “Plus you’d think it would be easier with less teeth. But it’s actually a lot harder to control the flow! Super wasteful.”

Across the room, JT’s eyeing up Josty’s bruises with a weird look on his face. If vampires could blush, Nate figures he would be. But vamps are completely capable of looking smug and intense, and JT’s handling that pretty well.

EJ’s still talking. “Shelf-stable blood was the best invention of the twentieth century, I swear to god. People talk shit about the nutrients, but, like, how much heme do you _really_ need?”

“Not cars?” says Nate. “Or phones? Or, I don’t know, air conditioning? Is that a twentieth century thing?”

EJ shrugs. “I mean, the first time I used scotch tape was pretty cool. But other than that? The blood, hands down.”

Josty adjusts his practice jersey and idly touches the bruises. He looks like he would disagree with EJ’s ideas about where blood should come from. EJ’s got a decent point about tape, though.

+

EJ and Nate pull into the players-only lot at the Pepsi Center at the same time. They’re both running a couple minutes late, EJ because he has a general dislike of punctuality and Nate because he spilled a water bottle on his lap and had to change his suit. 

Nate nods to the security guy and holds the arena door open for EJ, who does not say thank you. “How’s it going?” Nate asks.

“Spent all day dealing with horse issues,” he says. Nate appreciates that he doesn’t specify what issues those are, because Nate doesn’t care at all and is also a little afraid of horses, though he won’t say that to EJ.

“Sounds like a pain,” Nate says. EJ grunts in response. “Why horses, dude? Kinda random.”

“Eternity gets boring, y’know? It’s horrible if you don’t switch things up a little bit,” he says. “ Horse racing, why not? Horses are surprisingly good with vampires, actually. Professional hockey, why not? It isn’t like I’ll get _cold_.”

“Huh,” says Nate.

EJ shrugs. “When I get bored, I’ll go do something else. It’s how it goes for most of us.” Nate doesn’t want EJ to get bored. Nate wants to be interesting enough that EJ wants to stick around.

“How do you know what most vampires do?” Nate asks. It comes out maybe a little accusatory. But there’s no way EJ is like most vampires.

“We talk,” EJ says. “There’s a yearly convention.”

EJ takes a sip of his coffee, swishes it around his mouth contemplatively, and spits it back into his paper cup. “Dogg, I’m gonna ask you a serious question,” he says, grabbing Nate by the arm and yanking him into a convenient alcove. It feels a little planned and very vampy. Embarrassingly, Nate’s heart rate kicks up.

“Can’t you just drink the coffee?” 

“Nope. Too much milk. And before you ask, that’s not a vamp thing. I think I’m just regular lactose intolerant.”

“They have lactose free milk, I think,” Nate says.

“Not the point,” says EJ. Nate wants to ask what the point is, then, asshole, but EJ keeps rolling. “What I wanted to ask is, do you have a thing about vampires?”

Nate’s mind goes blank. “Uh. What kind of thing?” He wracks his brains, trying to remember if he ever said anything stupid about vampires. He really hopes not. It’s his job as A to keep the room comfortable and shit, but he didn’t grow up around a ton of vamps. There’s probably some undead etiquette he missed, or maybe he was weird about Josty’s vampire Tinder girl--

“Shit, I always forget the word. This is embarrassing.” EJ snaps his fingers, considering. “Oh, fetish! Do you have a vampire fetish?”

“How do you forget the word fetish?” Nate says faintly.

“It meant something different when I was growing up,” EJ says. “Anyway, do you?”

“No? I don’t think so? Why?”

EJ hums, rapping his fingers on his cup. “You’ve had a lotta questions for me lately. About vamp shit. I just figured you were thinking about your sexuality and needed a safe place to _explore_.”

Nobody in their right mind would describe EJ as ‘a safe place to explore’ anything, which is why Nate must be crazy to interrupt EJ’s ramblings about educational websites and vampire hunters to say: “I don’t have a vampire fetish. I have, uh, a you fetish?”

EJ lights up. “Shit, no,” Nate says. “That came out wrong.”

“What do you have?” EJ asks. “One more time?”

“Let’s not do this.”

“No, no, I wanna hear it.”

Nate’s going to get a migraine, partly from his own dipshit tendencies and partly from EJ’s. “What I meant was, like, I felt bad that I didn’t know that much about you. Or vampires. Or you in a vampire context. So I thought it would be nice. To ask.”

“Shit. That’s actually kinda nice, bud.”

Nate’s blushing from the ribcage up at this point. He buries his face in his hands and, through his fingers, says, “Can you stop roasting me long enough for me to leave?” If he didn’t have to play a game in an hour he would exit the building completely.

“That was sincerity, Dogg. I appreciate your interest.” EJ claps a below-zero hand to the side of Nate’s face, and Nate can’t suppress a horrible full-body shiver. “Oh?” says EJ.

“Shut up,” says Nate.

EJ presses closer. “Nah, I think I get it.” 

“You probably do,” says Nate. He lowers his hands so he can give EJ the evil eye more effectively. It doesn’t work.

“So, to clarify: you don’t have a thing for vampires. But you might have a thing for me.”

Nate’s gonna kill him. “Sure.”

“That’s cool. Not gonna bite your neck, though.”

“I got that,” Nate says.

“Just wanted to make sure that was clear.”

“It is.”

“I mean, I can still bite your neck,” EJ says with a full-fanged grin. “Just not in a blood drinking way.”

“I figured.”

“In case you want one of those love bites Josty had.”

“I don’t,” Nate says, even though he maybe kind of does.

“Because I feel like you maybe kind of do,” says EJ. “You like those turtlenecks so much.”

“Can we maybe discuss this after the game?” Nate says. There are some guys who are into the in-arena hookup thing, but Nate is not one of them.

“Whatever you like, Mac,” EJ says, and then leans in to nip at Nate’s neck. His mouth is gone before Nate can process anything other than _cold_ and _sharp_. If Nate didn’t have a game to play in an hour he would have an aneurism. EJ runs one of his stupid cold hands through Nate’s hair, says “See you later,” and vanishes from the alcove so fast he must have sprinted down the hall.

“Fucker,” Nate says.

**Author's Note:**

> I did so much research on minnesota history for this baby and included none of it, turns out minnesota is very interesting! brought to you by the 12,000 words of academic writing i had to do in the last two weeks, which would all have been finished earlier if i wasn’t also working on this fucker. [this](https://www.vmfa.museum/piction/6027262-151469404/) was the inspiration for ej’s portrait at the vmfa.
> 
> come say hey on [tumblr](http://softbarrie.tumblr.com)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] time for the inhuman race](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26374888) by [nat reads (natashastarkk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natashastarkk/pseuds/nat%20reads)


End file.
